Sequel to Falconsaga, A Tale of Icelandic FOlklore
by
Size: 9.00 x 6.00 in
Pages: 218
The Norns have prophesied that Altair and his huldufólk guardian Magnús face a glorious destiny or a hideous death.
Together, Magnús and Altair have already survived near-lethal attacks, but the dangers ahead of them grow ever darker. The Yule Cat, a man-eating trollwife and her brood of dangerous children, ghosts, and other horrors out of legend chase the elf, the human, and their cohorts across the north of Iceland. Time is running out to break the sorcery that keeps Altair from learning who—and what—he really is. The invasion foretold by the Norns looms ever closer, and Magnús knows he is fated either to lose Altair, or to meet his own doom.
The stakes rise as they finally begin to understand the danger to all of Iceland posed by the Black Priest. But they cannot waiver. In the face of betrayal and murder, Magnús of the Hidden Ways must guard Altair the Falcon, or all is lost.
An elf afraid of opening his heart, and a human who is heir to an awesome power: Only by embracing their shared destiny can they save Iceland…and each other.
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 1
Romantic Content: 3
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: Varies During Story
Protagonist 2 Age: Ageless/Immortal
Tropes: Badass Hero, Bodyguard/Guardian Angel, Cultural Differences, Found Family, Hero and the Great Quest
Word Count: 50000
Setting: Iceland
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Continuous / Same Characters
A rumble through the ground, the groan of forces beneath the surface, brought the party to a halt. Maybe it’s not just my nerves.
Magnús crouched and looked around rapidly, as if preparing for an assault. Altair’s gaze flew from cave opening to crevasse to black columns of basalt. If this was an attack, where would it come from? There were so many dark openings and shadowed breaks…
The rumble subsided quickly, and Magnús straightened again. “Just another tremor then. This area is highly volcanic still, though I don’t recall hearing of a significant eruption in centuries.”
READ MOREThat should have made Altair feel better, but instead it keyed him up further. He’d grown to respect the raw power of this country, the churning lava, vents that were far too awake. All of nature’s restrained fury ready to remind fragile mortals and elves, too, that they were merely ants crawling across the surface of a not-quite-slumbering behemoth.
Movement from the corner of his eye made Altair’s head whirl round. He peered intently, eyes narrowed. Black, crooked fingers of basalt stretched toward the sky. The fog was growing thicker, more gray, but still he could see oddly well in every direction. He kept scanning the columns, trying to identify where the motion had come from.
One lava pillar caught his attention. Irregular and jagged as the others, yet toward the top it became smoother, almost mounded. Funny. At the very top there were two little points like ears. And down the side of the column was a blacker streak, thick, curling around the lava like a vine.
The vine moved.
Altair’s yelp had Magnús at his side in an instant. “What did you see?” the elf demanded. Following Altair’s pointing finger, Magnús peered into the fog. “How can you see…? Wait! There. I think our approach has been spotted.”
The fog swirled slightly, lightening the area a bit. Diwata inhaled sharply, then said in a hoarse whisper, “No freakin’ way! It’s just a folktale, I thought.”
Ólafur joined them on Altair’s other side. “Is that…?”
Magnús nodded, then called out, “Hail, Jólaköttur. We mean no harm but ask to speak with thy mistress.”
Altair had to stifle another yelp as the black shape stirred and lifted its head. Two glowing orange eyes opened wide in the black face. The vine twitched again and now Altair realized it was a thick and furry tail. Silhouetted against the foggy sky, the head bent to lick at a raised paw, and suddenly Altair got it.
“A cat!” he hissed softly. “Is it another urðarköttur like the professor?”
Diwata muttered, “Worse if the legends are true.”
The cat on the column fixed its orange eyes on Altair and paused in cleaning its enormous foreleg.
“I am myself alone,” it said in a rumbling voice that put Altair in mind of the menacing tones of a tiger he’d heard once in a zoo.
COLLAPSEFive Stars
"Wowee! Wow! Wow! What a hard-hitting, epic, and exciting conclusion to the Altair and Magnús tale! I was on pins and needles all the way throughout. It's like watching an intricate weaving of different threads turn into a beautiful tapestry. The imagery evoked by the masterful writing is magnificent, yet horrifying."
